Watch It Burn
by alyssa.emeraldcity
Summary: When Christine acquires the face of the phantom, will she be able to face Raoul and build their future?  Or will the Angel of Music finally take over her mind and call her back to him?  Rated T just in case! E/C
1. Chapter 1

I was free.

The angel of music had unchained me. I had given him my soul, my mind, my love, and he had sent me from his hell. He had saved me and condemned himself in a single moment, almost as fleeting as the kiss.

_Our_ kiss.

I had wanted to save Raoul. I had flung myself at my captor in a desperate attempt to free him from a gruesome fate. But, as my lips met those of the cold, dark phantom, my heart began to burn with a fire which I had never felt. My mind swan with Don Juan Triumphant. My skin danced with flames of fear and hate and love and searing desire. My tears mixed with those of a man, those of an angel. I could not get close enough to him, and yet, in that moment, we were the same caged, tortured beast.

I cried.

I cried as I left him. I cried as I sang out to him. I cried as I climbed toward the sun. I cried as Raoul told me not to be afraid anymore, and then I cried in my anger at him. He had pulled me away! He had broken the wings, torn the heartstrings of my poor angel, and yet he still had the nerve to comfort me!

It was through my angry tears that I saw the flames. They consumed the rich red velvet of the seats, the shining glory of the chandelier, and, I'm sure, the mangled bodies of my last audience.

I had cried out for Raoul, but he was not by my side. In my fear that the fire had taken him, that my last thoughts of him would be hateful, I lost control. I turned on the spot, searching for some escape, for a miracle, an angel.

By then, I was already burning.


	2. Chapter 2

The only feeling that awaited me as I woke was exhaustion. My entire body was stiff and my limbs felt heavy. I dared not move, afraid of the protests my weary body would give.

As I lay in the unfamiliar bed, I began to determine the nature of my surroundings. The room was spacious but cozy, and the walls were painted a light shade of blue. Every chair appeared luxuriously soft, accompanied by swarms of delicate pillows, each covered in layers of lace. The accents had accents; the details had details. Soft light streamed from an open window, whether from morning or evening I could not tell. The quiet noises of the lazy Paris street drifted to my ears, mingled with the closer, more distinct voices of the people in the hall.

"She will wake soon. The doctor is sure," said a vaguely familiar voice. The Count?

"That's what I fear most!" cried another more desperate voice, one that I knew well.

Raoul!

I almost leapt from the bed at the sound of his voice, but my groaning muscles would not have it. I bit into my lip to keep from screaming with frustration. Quietly, I settled back into the pillows to listen.

"Have you seen her?" Raoul continued. "Have you seen the state she's in?"

"Yes," his brother replied coolly. "The doctor said she is in perfect health."

"Health!" Raoul howled. The anger in his words was enough to make me shrink back into the sheets. "It is not her health that distresses me!"

The Count scoffed. "She will be fine! She will recover and we will send her on her way!"

Send me on my way? Did the Count propose to throw me out like an unwanted stray, nursed to health and left to fend for itself?

"But she still expects me to marry her!" Raoul yelled.

My heart fell to my stomach. Why wouldn't I marry him? We were free, finally free to proclaim our love to the world. Why wouldn't we take the advantage of the opportunity?

"I can't do it, Philippe," Raoul sighed. "I can't wake up to find his face haunting me every day for the rest of my life."

His face.

Forgetting the pain in my limbs, I sprang from the bed and stumbled to the full-length mirror across the room. I met the eyes of my reflection, two piercing jewels, but they were not set in _my_ face.

_His_ face.

The entire left side of the face was scarred. The skin was gruesome and stretched in some places, raw and pink in others. The left eyebrow was absent, and the eyelashes framed my eye in a rigid black line. The edge of the lips dropped slightly on that side as though barely pulled by an imaginary string. I could just see the outlines of the scars that crept across a bare patch on the skull and down the neck.

I reached a timid hand to touch the mangled flesh, the damaged skin searing under my touch. Tracing the lines from my forehead to my jaw line, I let the memories flood back into my body.

The flames had engulfed me. I had called out for Raoul, but he was gone, gone and yet here, safe, only a wall away from me.

Before that, there had been Raoul. And Erik, whose terrified face stared at me from the mirror.

The pain came back to me. The pain and the fear and the loneliness rushed back to my chest so quickly that I gasped for breath. With it came a fury that latched onto my heart and threatened to erupt from me. The monster consumed me, poisoning the innocent Christine Daae inside me. It sang with the voice of an angel, but burned with the heat of a demon.

_Past the point of no return. No backward glances. Your games of make-believe are at an end._ I sank to the ground, clutching the frame of the mirror. His face, his beautiful face, cried before me, vivid and furious.

_Past all thought of "if" or when". No use resisting. Abandon thought and let the dream descend. _I let loose one shaking breath. All hope left me, all resolve, all determination suddenly gone, leaving me open and exposed.

_What raging fire shall flood the soul?_ My whole body lurched forward with my silent gasp.

_What rich desire unlocks its door? _Quiet tears fell to the carpet.

_What sweet seduction lies before us?_ His kiss danced on my lips, almost as if he were there, but not quite real enough.

_Past the point of no return. The final threshold. What warm unspoken secrets will we learn… _ The voice, now at its peak, mingled with the dying sighs of Christine Daae, rang with one last line.

_Beyond the point of no return?_

**I hope people are enjoying this! I know this chapter is very dramatic, but who doesn't like a little drama? I promise chapters will get longer. Also, I might be adding details from the book in later chapters. **


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera**_**!**

I don't know how long I remained in front of the mirror. The light in the window grew brighter; the noise on the street grew louder. Rauol and Philippe had long since left the hall, arguing as they went. A maid came into the room once, but my face in the mirror must have startled her. She left with a gasp before I could even turn to her.

It must have been early evening by the time Rauol came to see me. He politely knocked on the door frame before entering, and then rushed to my side when he saw my condition. He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me up from the ground.

"Christine," he whispered without feeling, "you need to be in bed. You're still very weak."

I pulled my arm from his grasp. Breaking my eye contact with the girl in the mirror, I turned my head in Rauol's direction, but did not meet his gaze.

"Where were you?" I hissed.

Rauol, bewildered, stuttered, "I was- I was just out, out with Philippe, that's all, Lotte."

I stood slowly and turned on him. He jumped as his eyes met mine, then searched my face trying to find any trace of his Little Lotte.

"Where were you in the opera?" I cried. I was panting for breath now, my chest heaving. "The stage was burning, and you weren't there. I tried to find you, but you weren't there."

His face fell, and, as it did, the realization hit me. He had escaped. He had found a way out of the flames.

I had not.

"You left!" I screamed. I advanced on him, and, without thinking, Rauol took a step away from me. "You found a way out, and you left me there?"

Rauol only stared at me in shock, his eyes betraying his fear. He took another hesitant step backwards, only to hit the wall behind him. He seemed sad and still terrified at the same time.

I backed up a step, raising a hand to cover the left side of my face, ashamed. "Don't be afraid of me," I begged. "Please don't be afraid of me."

At this, Rauol came towards me, lifting his arm to gently touch my back and leading me to the bed. I dropped onto the mattress, and he sat at my right side.

"I tried to save you," he said, trying to catch my eye. I stared straight ahead as he continued, "I lost you in the smoke and the flames. I found you later, but you were already burned and barely breathing. You've been here for a week, Christine. We were afraid you wouldn't survive."

At that, I turned to look at him. His gentle eyes searched my face, and he grabbed my hand in both of his. I wanted so badly to forgive him. I needed something stable, something concrete to grasp and touch and feel and _know._ I needed my old Rauol, the boy who swam out to sea to save my scarf, who had never seen me cry over my father's grave, who had never fought for my life and my love against a master of trapdoors. We had been corrupted since my entrance into the opera, and I feared that we were too late to rid ourselves of this toxin. In a way, it almost felt like the music of the night – a burning acid that scours the soul, leaving the passion, the longing, and the lust exposed. I felt as though I was dying, but it awakened the adrenaline inside me. Suddenly, I was unsure of what I really wanted.

I clenched my teeth to stop the tears that threatened to begin flowing from my eyes once again. Pulling my hand from Rauol's, I sank deeper into the bed, noticing the pain that weighted down my limbs and pounded in my head.

"I'm tired, Rauol," I sighed. I closed my eyes as he stood from his seat beside the bed.

As I drifted off to sleep, I heard only his weary voice breathing, "Of course, Christine."

_Christine, I love you…._

I awoke in the dark with the voice lingering in my ears and twisted dreams still dancing through my mind. My skin crawling, I reached to touch my left cheek. The contact burned, and I felt the ridges and grooves of my deformity. My memories were confirmed. With a sigh, I rested my head on the pillow and tried to sleep again.

My mind, however, was wide awake. The excitement of the day had long since settled with sleep, but I still had so many doubts. I had not forgotten the conversation that I had heard taking place in the hall. Rauol and his brother were obviously struggling with something, but what? Did they worry for my well-being, or for theirs? Rauol, my sweet, gentle fiancé, would never abandon me because of mere appearances. He would never stoop so low, never forget the love we had shared purely because of this. He had too much heart for that, didn't he?

Then again, he considered Erik's face to be that of a nightmare. Only I knew that his face was the Opera Ghost's least frightening feature. I had seen his wild rage and the deaths at his hands. Was he truly a product of his grotesque exterior? Would I meet the same fate? Or had a cruel childhood given him the fury in his soul?

Lying in the strange bed in the strange house, I only wished that I could ask him.

**I should have the next chapter up in a day or two. Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism, anyone?**


	4. Chapter 4

My days in the De Chagney household passed slowly and uneventfully. I spent most of my time in the small room on the second floor, only leaving to venture to the library when I needed a change of scenery. Rauol delivered my meals himself, sometimes accompanied by a courageous maid named Marie, who I became acquainted with rather quickly. She seemed to always have some excuse to come to my room, often stayed to talk to me for hours at a time. The rest of the day was spent speaking to Rauol of the news and examining myself in the mirror.

After only a few days, my strength had returned to me, and I could remain awake throughout the entire day. The scars on my neck and shoulder were so slight that they did not hurt anymore, but my face continued to be tender to the touch. I figured that it always would. It had been that way for _him._

Sometimes during these days, while staring in the mirror, I was struck with an idea. It entered my mind quickly and discreetly, but stayed there, gnawing itself a home inside my head, for what seemed like an eternity. I tried to vanquish it, hoping that, if it was ignored, it would cease to bother me. But, with the constant reminder of my deformity staring me down from the mirror, it was not easily overlooked.

One evening during my meal with Rauol, he brought out the topic that I had been dreading.

"I believe it's about time for a wedding, don't you?" he teased, glancing across the table and winking. His eyes took one brief glance at my left hand, where his ring had once been worn for another man. Just the thought brought a lump to my throat.

I swallowed and took a deep breath before saying, "I was under the impressions that your plans had changed."

Rauol gave a start, and then reached to grab my hand. I pulled it away. He sighed, his eyes pleading. "You know how I feel about you!" he cried. "Do you think that this would change that?"

"Where will the wedding be held?" I asked plainly.

"Here," he explained, "in three days' time."

At that, I met him with a startled look. "Three days?" I wailed. "That gives us no time! Everyone's left town since the fire. Why, how will Meg and Madame Giry find a way here in three days?"

Rauol, smiling, grabbed both of my hands before I could pull them out of the way. "It will just be us, Lotte – you, Philippe, and I. It will be quick and simple, and then we can begin our lives together."

He gave me an expectant look, which I returned by standing and walking to the nearest window. The normally bustling streets were empty, and rain assaulted the window pane. Grey clouds rolled across the sky in an endless blanket, drawing all color from the landscape.

Rauol had offered me what I had so often longed for: a new beginning, a chance to build a new life. I could be anyone I wanted to be. I could leave the opera behind and never sing again. I could be a housewife and, someday, a mother. I could live somewhere far from the busy streets of Paris, where I would not be judged, where my face would be kept away from prying eyes.

Is that what Rauol wanted? Did he plan a private wedding specifically for that purpose, to keep me hidden? Surely he was better than that. Surely my face would not mar his social status any further than the occurrences at the Opera Populaire already had. Still, I wondered.

I turned back to Rauol, who still sat at the table, looking eager. "I will think about it tonight," I stated, not showing any emotion.

Looking hurt, he folded his napkin, stood, and left the room without a backward glance.

The rain persisted long into the night, and I sat for hours on the window seat watching the clouds change shapes. In the distance, I could see the roof of my beloved opera house, though I was sure only horrors resided there now. It had probably already been stripped by hungry reporters searching for some proof of the famed Opera Ghost. With that thought, my vicious idea sprang back to mind, so powerful that I knew it must not be ignored any longer.

Grabbing a lighter candle, I hurried to the library. I knew from my previous trips that, in a desk in the very center of the room, I would find paste and paper in abundance. Seizing my prize, I shut the door behind me and continued down the hall.

On the way back to my room, I noticed a small strip of light radiating from underneath Rauol's bedroom door. Quietly, I bent down to press my eye to the keyhole. At first, I only saw the bright candle at his bedside, but, as my eyes adjusted, I could clearly make out Rauol's face. He sat on the edge of his mattress, running his fingers through his hair. With a sigh, he brought his gaze to the ceiling, and I thought I saw a tear slide down his cheek.

Leaving the scene behind me, I tried not to think of the reason for his tears.

I returned to my room, locking the door behind me. Then, I set to work cutting, shaping, molding, pasting. My hands, covered in the thick adhesive, shook so strongly that I had trouble even grasping the scissors. That night, I made two more trips to the library in search of supplies, each time pausing to make sure that Rauol had not been disturbed. On my second trip, I sighed in relief as I noticed his figure curled on top of the sheets sound asleep.

By the time I had finished my project, the rain outside had become a furious storm, the wind tearing its unseen claws into the glass of my window. My breath racing, I wondered whether or not I would ever forgive myself for the horrid thing that I was about to do.

I stood before the mirror with my creation in my hands. A mask. A very fine mask, actually, and an almost perfect replica of _his, _only reflected to fit over my scars. With all the courage I could muster, I lifted it to my face, closing my eyes until the string was carefully fitted around my head.

As I opened my eyes, I could not control the smile that played on my lips. There it was, the face that I had been longing to see since the day I had left him. Almost. It wasn't quite his face, but it was most certainly not Christine Daae's. I looked darker, more mysterious, and still more beautiful. Instantly, I felt the appeal that Erik must have had for this grand ruse. I was unrecognizable, and yet an angel worthy of inhabiting the most dreadful nightmares.

"Oh, if only you could see me now," I whispered to the reflection, and it adopted my longing gaze.

Finally, I turned from the mirror, my mind turning with desperation. In a trunk at the foot of my bed, I found a simple dress and a black, hooded cloak. I knew that, with the frightening weather, a hooded figure would not seem too bizarre if seen rushing down the streets. Using some extra parchment, I wrote a simple message to Rauol, taking it under my cloak with the mask.

As I turned the corner of the hall to go down the stairs, I nearly ran into Marie, the maid. My face startled her in the darkness, and she brought her hand to her chest as if to calm her upset heart.

"Miss Daae!" she gasped. "You scared me!"

"Please forgive me," I said, hoping she would not be too loud. The last thing I wanted was to be forced to confront Rauol.

She must have guessed, because she whispered, "Why are you out of bed? And dressed!"

This stopped me. I had been sure that she would ask, but had not a clue as to how to reply. Did I dare tell her? She had been the only servant who had come to comfort and assist me. She was, however, also the youngest. My guess was that she was a year of two younger than I, but, standing there at the top of the staircase with her head cocked to one side, she looked absolutely child-like. I sighed, preparing my excuse, but she was too quick and caught me off guard.

"You're going to find him!" she gasped, reaching a hand out to grasp my arm.

I only managed to stutter, "What? Who?"

"The Opera Ghost!" Marie cried. "Your kidnapper! You're going to return to him!"

Hurriedly, I quieted her. "Yes!" I whispered. "Please do not tell Rauol that you know! I can't marry him, Marie. You simply cannot understand how urgent this is."

"You love him," she said. Bowing her head, she added, "I overheard the Vicompte telling his brother the story. You accepted the Opera Ghost's proposal, but he let you go free."

I was shocked. Rauol had told? And he had been foolish enough to let his _servant _overhear?

I grabbed onto Marie's shoulders, staring her straight in the face. She did not act afraid, only expectant.

"Yes," I told her, "that is exactly what happened. Still, I cannot marry the Vicompte, especially after what has happened. I need to see Er-… the Opera Ghost. I plan to find him and stay with him, if he will have me. If, for some reason, I cannot find him and I must return here, I will marry Rauol, and you will forget this meeting. Will you promise me that?"

Marie nodded vigorously, the bun on the back of her head bouncing. I pulled the note from my cloak, pressing it into her hand.

"If I have not returned by noon tomorrow, you are to give this to Rauol. Tell him that I left it with you, but that you do not know where I have gone." I smiled, cupping her cheek in my hand. I felt her tear hit the skin on my thumb. "You are so beautiful, _mon ami, _and you have shown me such kindness. One day, I will come back and visit you. Stay safe, and remember that you are not alone."

She laughed once and whipped the tears from her face. "You are so brave, Miss Daae," she whispered, "and, someday, you will sing at the Opera Populaire once again!"

"Then you must come hear me," I teased. She reminded me of a younger, gentler Meg, or perhaps a less stubborn version of myself. I couldn't help but love her.

"You will remain in my prayers," she said, stepping back so as to let me down the stairs.

"And you mine," I promised. Pulling out the mask and placing it on my face, I added, "The Angel of Music watches over you." With that, I descended the stairs, smiling to myself at the look of awe that had overcome her features.

The rain hit me full-force as I left the house, but it did not penetrate the thick hood of the cloak. I set off on foot in the general direction of the opera house, trying not to remember the heartless goodbye that Rauol would find in the morning:

"Do not come looking for me."

**I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera, **_**but I do own the character of Marie. If anyone was wondering, "mon ami" is "friend" in French. I realize that Christine was not born in France, but I thought it fit.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera.**_

I had never been so terrified of Paris.

Rats, unaffected by the rain, crawled from the crevices and cracks of the buildings. They would dart in front of me on the walkways, and it took every bit of my composure not to scream as their slinky bodies sloshed through the water on the ground. I took to staring straight ahead, hoping to avoid the sight of them. Only a few times did I see other people in the street, and those who were were almost always drunk. They called out to me in an attempt to coax me over to towards them. I simply treated them the same as the rats.

Walking down a particularly shady road, I heard a voice to my right.

"Hey there, _belle,_" it hissed. Without even a glance in that direction, I pulled the hood tighter around my face and continued to walk.

Only a few seconds later, I was jerked back by the arm, my face brought only inches from my captor's. I let out a cry, struggling to free myself from his grasp and turn my face from his sweaty, smirking one.

Two other men stood behind him, both grinning and advancing toward me. As I thrashed about, they each grabbed one of my arms, giving their leader center stage. With a final shout, I hung my head and stopping moving completely.

The man in front of my reached for a strand of hair that had escaped my hood. Twisting it between his fingers a few times, he cooed, "Where do you think you're headed in the middle of the night?"

"The opera house," I panted. Although I was breathing hard and trembling throughout my entire body, I was careful not to let them see my face underneath the cloak.

My captor went rigid. He turned to the man at my left, and then sneered, "My brother worked at the opera house once. That is, until he was killed. Maybe you've heard of him. Buquet? Joseph Buquet?"

I gasped. Of course I knew Buquet, the sceneshifter who constantly stalked backstage waiting for unsuspecting ballet girls.

"Seems you do," his brother chuckled.

The man at my left snigger darkly, leaning close to my ear. "Joe sure would have liked this one, wouldn't he, Rupert?"

Butquet's brother, Rupert, howled with laughter. He reached out a hand, brushing my cheek as he hissed, "My brother sure had a thing for ballet rats."

My heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, I was furious, with myself and with them. What would the Opera Ghost think of my now, wearing his mask and still not brave enough to fend off Buquet's drunken brother? The blood rushed through my veins, and I forced my anger into my words.

"Perhaps it is you who are the rat."

Rupert Buquet, hearing this, grabbed my chin, forcing my gaze to his face. "What did you-?"

The color rushed from his face as the hood slid from my head. He met my eyes with a look of terror, and his companions released me, gasping and backing away toward the alley. Buquet whispered something that sounded like "the ghost".

"You're right," I sighed, smiling and bringing one hand to graze the place on his neck where a noose would rest perfectly. My mind buzzed with vicious thoughts as he closed his eyes tightly, going completely stiff. Leaning close enough to him that my mask brushed his face, I whispered, "I remember your brother quite well."

I turned, bringing the hood back over my head, and continued on my way.

**Sorry this is such a short chapter, but I didn't want to combine it with the next one. In case anyone forgot, Joseph Buquet was the head sceneshifter in the movie. Erik hanged him from the rafters of the stage during a performance just before the scene on the roof with "All I Ask Of You". I do not own that character, but I do own the character of his brother, Rupert, and his two friends. The next chapter is up, so keep reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera **_**or any of it's characters.**

I nearly ran up the steps of the Opera Populaire. Although it was severely charred in some places, it still seemed like home to me. How long had it been? Surely, I had not visited in years! Thinking back, it surprised me to realize that it had only been a few weeks. I took a deep breath and made my way inside.

Everything was, for the most part, as it had been. Besides the chandelier and the damage from the fire, the theatre was still recognizable. The set for _Don Juan Triumphant, _however, lay in ruins. Climbing onto the stage, a sudden thought occurred to me.

I pulled away the boards of the collapsed platform, and I caught sight of what I had been searching for. I turned the hard, black mask in my hands. Even without its face, the thing gave me chills. I fell to my knees, letting sobs rack my body and crying out into the night. Closing my eyes, I begged for that night to return, and I sang for the first time since.

_"I remember there were flames, blazing flames lighting the faces of the crowd." _I dared not open my eyes for fear that the scene in my mind would be lost.

_"There were dancers all around, and on the stage there was a mask. And past the mask there was a man." _I never wanted to let go of the memory. I silently prayed that I could live that night over a million times, for the rest of my life.

It was then that a gentle hand laid itself onto my shoulder. I heard a quiet groan, and a pair of knees hit the ground beside me. I closed my eyes tighter as a head was rested on my shoulder, weeping gently.

_"Whose is the face in the mirror?"_ I slowly opened my eyes, hoping not to be disappointed.

_"Whose is the face in this mask?" _Grabbing his face in my hands, I turned to my Angel of Music.

He was beautiful.

Erik's face, half hidden by his mask, was the mirror image of mine. Tears glistened on his cheeks, and his emerald eyes were filled with the same child-like wonder as when I had left him.

"Christine," he sobbed, and his voice brought fresh tears to my eyes. "You've come back."

"Can you ever forgive me?" I begged. My breath was shaking, any my hands, still caressing his face, quivered uncontrollably.

Erik shook his head, but a small smile touched his lips. Raising his hands to my face, he said, "There is nothing to forgive."

He brushed the hood from the top of my head, and he cocked his head to one side. His thumb found the edge of my mask, and, as he slowly pried the covering from my face, I did the same for him.

I let out another cry as I saw the shock in his expression. His eyes widened in fear, whether of me or for me I was not sure. His mouth tried to form words, but failed. _His _scars, to me, were no surprise. I was too distracted to even notice them.

Hanging my head, I cried, "It was during the fire, Erik! I couldn't escape before…." Unable to finish my sentence, I hid my mangled face in my hands, whispering, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

He regained some of his composure, and I saw him looking down at his hands as though they were stained with blood.

_My _blood.

"This is my fault," he choked. As I lifted my head to tell him otherwise, he stood.

"No, it's no one's fault!" I brought myself up from the ground, and the cloak fell in a heap on the stage floor.

Erik ran a hand over his head, pulling off his wig and throwing it down in his frustration. "If I had not dropped the chandelier!" he moaned. "If I had not made you leave!" With this, he stopped, then took a step toward me, gripping my shoulder as if to support himself. I held on to his waist to steady him.

Inhaling an uneasy breath, he brought his eyes to mine. Slowly, cautiously, he asked, "Why have you returned?"

I laughed once, though without humor. Shaking my head, I sighed, "I couldn't stay away."

To my relief, Erik smiled, but his confused expression remained. "What about-?"

"I left him," I said. "I've been seeing your face in the mirror for days. I ran away tonight, Erik, because I had to find you… I love you."

My own words startled me, but I knew the moment they escaped my lips that they were true.

Erik gasped, and then smiled wider than I had ever seen. My tears flowed harder as he gently held my face in his hands. He leaned forward, kissing my forehead and whispering, "I never _stopped _loving you, Christine."

Ignoring his attempts of treating me delicately, I grabbed the back of his head and roughly pulled him into a kiss, feeling his smile as I did so.

**I finally got Erik into the story! The song Christine was singing is set to "I Remember", the song she sings when she wakes up after "Music of the Night". I'm not sure if I like how I introduce Erik, so I'd love some feedback. Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera.**_

__I awoke to silence, but I knew that I was not alone. The black curtains that usually surrounded the swan-shaped bed had been pulled away since last night. Broken glass littered the floor, and there was not a single mirror in the entire place that had not been shattered.

As I sat up, I desperately tried to remember what events had brought me here. It was all so unclear; the only image that I could bring to mind was Erik's gentle smile as he had lifted me into the bed before turning to leave. After that, it was all dreams of dancers and music and cymbal-playing monkeys.

Navigating my way through the glass shards, I stepped to the edge of the lake. The light from the multiple candles shimmered on the water's surface, and I could clearly see my own reflection before that of the monumental organ to my right.

_The only mirror he could not destroy, _I thought, turning to face the organ.

Erik's figure hunched over the keys, his upper body completely limp. I smiled and advanced. The composer had fallen asleep in the middle of his work.

No matter how hard I searched, however, I could not find the piece that he had been in the process of perfecting. I found no sheet music anywhere but for the blank pages scattered about the floor. With a sigh of defeat, I sat next to him.

As I watched Erik absentmindedly, it occurred to me that I had never seen him sleep before. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, I thought that it must be an uncommon event. It was comforting to see him so at-ease, unmasked and vulnerable.

I tried not to disturb him as I rested my fingers gently on the keys. I had never been given proper piano lessons, but my father had taught me some simple songs before his death.

My hands instantly retreated from the keys with the thought of him. What would my father think of me now? Not only had I chased after a false angel for years, but then I had left my childhood sweetheart to be with him. No longer was I his innocent little girl. I had grown into a deceitful, scarred adult. My only comfort was that my father would look past my misshapen face if he were here now. I had no doubts about _that, _at least.

Part of me hoped that my father would have approved of my actions. He had promised to send me the Angel of Music, after all. Reaching to stroke one of Erik's callused hands, I wondered if he was not truly more than human.

My touch must have startled him, because Erik's head sprang from the organ and he seized my arms with intensity. For a moment, the look in his eyes was almost terrifying, and a small cry escaped my lips.

Instantly, his expression turned from malicious to worried. He released me and backed away to the opposite end of the bench. "Christine!" he gasped. "I'm so sorry! You surprised me. Did I hurt you?"

I tried to calm my racing heart, and my breath slowly dropped to a normal pace. I shook my head, but did not speak. Turning from him and standing, I moved to sit at the edge of the lake. I lowered myself down onto the cold stone steps, remembering all the times that I had seen that face: when I had first removed his mask, in the graveyard, as Rauol was being strangled.

My heart dropped. "Erik?" I called. "What time is it?"

"Almost noon." I jumped when I heard his voice so close behind me. "Why do you ask?"

"Rauol will be realizing I've left soon," I choked. Guilt flooded my entire body, but I refused to break.

Erik sat next to me, but I did not look at him. I did not want to see his hurt expression. "It's not too late," he offered. "I could have you there in ten minutes."

I turned to him, my eyes pleading, his sincere. Did he want me to leave again? "Please, Erik, don't make me go back there. I don't want him, and he's so ashamed of me."

His brows furrowed. Hesitantly, he reached for my hands. I met them, eagerly, half-way.

"What do you mean?" he asked, seeming genuinely confused.

"He didn't want to marry me," I cried, tears spilling. I rushed to be rid of the words filling my throat. "Then, he changed his mind, but he only wanted a private wedding. He didn't want anyone to see me like this."

Erik shook his head slowly, and I leapt into his embrace. He held me as I cried, rocking me and stroking my hair.

"I will build you the greatest stage in the world," he whispered, "and you will sing for everyone to hear. I will put you on exhibit, and they will know you are mine. They will look at you, bathed in lights and sprinkled with diamonds, and they will relish in you beauty."

I pulled away only far enough to see his face. His tender smile warmed the cold lair, and all my doubts about his character were forgotten. I had finally found the angel that my father had promised me.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" I asked.

Brushing away my tears, my angel, my Opera Ghost, whispered, "Yes, Christine. You are a masterpiece."

**I know this chapter was short and pretty much uneventful, but I needed to show a little bit of Erik's darker side, even if it only lasted for a few lines. I'm working on the next chapter, but I'm kind of lost as to where I'm going with this. I would love some feedback! Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

We must have stayed there, in each others' arms, for nearly half an hour before we were interrupted by a crash so loud that it shook the very walls around us. I gripped Erik tighter, both of us staring at the ceiling in surprise.

"What was that?" I whispered.

He pulled my chin down so that I was looking at him. Smiling, he replied, "Nothing that can hear us from down here. There's no need to whisper." Even as he said this, his voice was barely audible.

I laughed, blushing slightly. Erik pulled himself up from the ground, then offered his hand. I took it, and he brought me back into his arms. I had been trying to understand how new this was for him. All his life, Erik had lived without love, and, suddenly, he had someone who loved him more than she loved herself.

"Stay here," he said, breaking away from me. "I'll go see who is disrupting my opera."

"Can't I come?" I called, following his as he gathered his cape and mask.

Erik refused to meet my gaze as he donned his Opera Ghost wardrobe. "No. It's too dangerous. Someone might see you and report back to your loving _fiancé._"

I scoffed and reached for my own mask. "I won't go back to Raoul," I promised. Placing the mask onto my face, I added, "No one will recognize me. I'm hardly Christine Daae anymore."

We faced each other, and I could feel his eyes examining me. I tried to stand tall, but it was difficult not to shrink from Erik's gaze.

With a crooked grin, he taunted, "Do you honestly think that you could be mistaken for the feared Opera Ghost?"

I smiled, mirroring him. Casually shrugging, I said, "It worked for Buquet."

At this, Erik's eyes filled with worry. His fearless act dissolved, and he stepped toward me. "What are you playing at, Christine?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern and agitation. "Joseph Buquet is dead."

"His brother, Rupert, is very well alive," I sighed, reliving my terror from the night before. "He attacked me in the street last night."

Erik grabbed my arms, searching my eyes for tears. "Did he hurt you?" he demanded, brushing my cheek with his thick leather glove.

"No," I replied. My voice shook. "But he would have. He saw my mask and thought I was the Opera Ghost. He thought I was his brother's killer."

Erik's eyes fell, and he ran his hand over his head. Pressing his wig over his scalp, he sighed. "Come. If nothing else, the fear surrounding my name will protect you."

My heart skipped a beat. I followed him from the lair, stopping once to check myself in the mirror. If I wiped the goofy smile from my face, I made a pretty convincing Opera Ghost. My dark hair framed my pale face, and my left eye glinted behind the mask. Erik must have noticed this, for he gave me a teasing smile, taking my hand and leading me to the surface.

The theatre was the same as before, only now it was bathed in patches of light from the holes in the roof. The destruction, in daylight and with Erik at my side, did not seem as miserable as it had the previous night. I longed to pick my way through the wreckage, to uncover every memory. Erik, seeing me step forward, pulled me back to his side.

"The Opera Ghost is patient," he whispered, his breath tickling my neck as he spoke. We stood in the shadows of one of the upper-level boxes. Glancing up, I watched his eyes studying his opera house, searching for something out of place.

Erik's eyes lingered on a statue that lay destroyed on the ground. I followed his gaze to the box directly above the shattered form. I gasped, and Erik's eyes narrowed.

A figure, perfectly still and framed by the tattered remnants of the velvet curtains, was sitting in the Phantom's seat in box five.

My false bravery left me. I clung to Erik's shirt, refusing to be left alone. "Who is that?" I whispered, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"I don't know," Erik replied, pulling me backward until we were in the hall. He rushed along the passages, and I almost had to run to keep up with him. "Whoever it is, they wish to speak with me."

I grabbed his arm, stopping and turning him to look at me. "And you plan to meet him?" I cried in disbelief. "What if it's Raoul? Erik, he might be armed! You have nothing!"

A dry laugh escaped his throat. With a flick of his cape, Erik presented me with a small, silver dagger. "The Opera Ghost is never without a weapon."

"What about you?" I asked, weighing the knife in my hand. Never had I been trusted with a real weapon, much less expected to use one. Had I really been so foolish as to think I could compare to Erik, the mastermind and murderer? I glanced up as he pulled a thin length of rope from his pocket. I barely had time to inspect it before we began moving and he had concealed the rope once again.

"The Punjab lasso," Erik explained, rounding a corner.

"Keep your hand at the level of your eyes," I gasped. He laughed darkly, then slowed to a halt and escorted me into a small closet on the left side of the hall.

Moving aside a stack of crates, Erik showed me into a narrow hall that ran parallel to the one outside the closet. "Go to the end," he whispered. "Be quiet. If I pull the lasso into full view, that is your cue to go to the chapel and wait for me there. Do you understand?"

I swallowed hard, gathering my courage. Looking into Erik's eyes, glittering in the dark of the passage, I abandoned my fear and nodded. _I can be the Opera Ghost, _I thought.

Erik smiled, kissed me once, and left.

My heart pounded as I crept my way toward the end of the hidden hall. By the time I reached the end, I had already guessed where it would lead me.

The view from box five was breathtaking. I could easily view the entire stage from where I stood behind the wall, looking over the seats from a small window. During the performance, with the lights dimmed, someone could become invisible from back there. My eyes caught sight of the person before me, and I sighed in relief, seeing the long braid that ran down the woman's back.

No sooner had I thought this than Erik entered the box. "Madame Giry," he started. I could tell he was surprised, even though his face betrayed no emotion.

Madame Giry stood. She gave Erik the look I had seen her give Meg many times when she arrived to rehearsals late. "Are you mad?" she yelled.

Erik brought a hand to his chest in mock horror. "I, a madman?" he gasped.

"Do not toy with me, monsieur!" Madame Giry huffed, stepping closer to him. Erik, however, did not cringe like any ballet girl would have. "The Viscount De Chagny knows that you have stolen his bride!"

Erik laughed once. "And he sent a woman to retrieve her? Why did he not come himself?"

Madame Giry's face was bright red now, and her fists were balled at her sides. "He knew you would kill him the moment he stepped through the door!" she wailed. "Where is Christine? I know you have her!"

"I assure you, Madame," Erik replied coolly, "I have not kidnapped Christine Daae."

With this, he took his seat and pulled the Punjab lasso from his pocket. I ignored the hint that it was my time to leave. Twisting it between his fingers, he turned back to Madame Giry. "When did he discover her missing?" he asked innocently.

"This morning," she replied, now calm. "He went to her room to bring her breakfast and found her gone. A servant met him with a note that asked him to not search for her. He thought the note was a ruse and sent me here to ask if she was in your possession."

"What if she is?" Erik's voice had grown dark. He glared at her menacingly. "Did you plan on taking her by force? You are a strong woman, Madame, but not _that _strong."

Madame Giry shrugged, obviously not bothered by this. "I was told to ask," she said. "Raoul De Chagny has asked me not to speak with her myself. He does not wish me to see her, for what reasons I do not know."

I felt tears forming in my eyes. I had left him, and still Raoul was trying to hide me from the world. Would it never end? Would he never realize that I did not want him, that I did not want the life he had tried to force me to live?

"I promise you, Madame, I have not kidnapped Miss Daae. She was free to leave the night of _Don Juan Triumphant._" With a slight tilt of his head in my direction, he added. "The Opera Ghost does not break promises."

I followed my orders. I ran back down the hidden hallway and to the chapel, not caring how much noise I was making. No sooner than I had arrived before my father's picture than I ripped the mask from my face, sobbing openly.

"Look at me, Father," I cried. "Look what has become of your little girl. She is broken and burned and mangled. And for what? My fiancé cannot bear the sight of me, Madame Giry does not even know where I am, and my Angel of Music expects me to be brave. How am I to be brave when I can barely face my reflection?" I stared down at my hands, one holding the dagger, the other, the mask. Tossing the dagger to my side, I cried, "I cannot do this, Father! I cannot live like this!"

"Christine?" someone whispered behind me. The voice was gentle and feminine. I quickly put the mask back onto my face before turning.

Meg was startled to see me in the mask, but ignored it as she ran and embraced me. "Meg!" I cried, weeping into her shoulder. "Meg, I thought I would never see you again!"

"I thought the same!" she laughed. Pulling away from me, her face grew dark, and she reached for my mask. "Why are you wearing this? You look just like _him_ in it!"

I could not help but giggle. With a sigh, I said, "I look just like him without it. Please, do not think differently of me once you've removed it."

With her confusion plainly written on her face, Meg pulled the mask from me face. I closed my eyes. The sound of her gasp was partially concealed by the clatter of the mask against the stone floor, but I still flinched when I heard her intake of breath. I expected to open my eyes to an empty room, but was pleasantly surprised to feel her arms wrap around me so roughly that I was almost knocked to the ground.

My eyes flew open as I heard my friend's sobs. She loosened her grip enough to grab my shoulders and face me with a determined look on her face. In that moment, I could have sworn she was her mother.

"Christine," she choked, "I don't know what happened but I am not afraid of you. I will _never_ be afraid of you."

I laughed, truly content for the first time in what seemed like years. "You are too kind to me," I whispered, hugging her again.

"Maybe that will make up for my mother," she sighed.

"What do you mean?" I asked, honestly confused.

Meg's eyes dropped to the floor. "She's furious, Christine! She thinks the Opera Ghost has kidnapped you again!" She gasped, reaching up to brush my burns. "Did he do this to you?"

"No!" I yelled. "I was hurt in the fire! My precious _fiancé _abandoned me after we were free. Now he expects me to marry him and stay locked up in a De Chagny mansion for the rest of my life."

"Oh, Christine," Meg whispered. I could the compassion in her eyes. "Your life with him was so secure! You were both going to be so happy!"

"I will never be with him again, Meg," I said, determined now. "My heart belongs to the Opera Ghost."

**I know the ending of this chapter was kind of boring and cheesy, but I wanted to bring Meg back into the picture, and I had people asking about her! More Giry's in the next chapter! Also, I know Christine is out of character for the beginning of the chapter, and I meant for that to happen! She's kind of rediscovering herself, if that makes sense. Thanks to everybody who reviewed and who is keeping up with this. I'll be updating again in the next few days.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera.**_

Meg stood in shock, staring at me before backing toward the wall. "What?" she gasped. "Christine, you must be joking!"

"I'm not!" I insisted, suddenly confused. What was so wrong with loving someone? Wouldn't my best friend rather me spend my life happy than suffering? I tried to comfort Meg, but she continued to shake her head at me.

"He's a murderer!" she cried. "He kidnapped you and almost burned the opera to the ground!"

_Of course, _I thought. _No one will ever trust Erik again. Not after all that has happened._

"Meg," I sighed, "he may have murdered, but they would have done the same to him. He may have kidnapped me, but he let me go. As for the opera house, it can be repaired!"

"And that's enough?" she questioned in disbelief. "He did all of those things and you're willing to forgive him? You'll give him your heart even though he's haunted your nightmares for months?"

"I'm not afraid of him!" I yelled. She was making me angry, framing Erik as a monster. She was acting no different than Raoul.

"The rest of us are!" Meg yelled right back at me. "He might not hurt you, but he wouldn't give a second thought about killing someone else. He's done it before, and he'll do it again!"

I stopped, not knowing what to say. Meg looked on the verge of tears, and I just wanted to run away from the chapel, from the opera house, from everything. I couldn't handle it anymore.

"Christine," Meg whispered, seeing my distress. Her expression became calm, and she came to my side once again. "I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want _anyone_ to get hurt."

I looked moved to the window. Had it really only been a few weeks since I had sat here before, fearing for my life and my future? Now, I was back again, confused and alone. Erik couldn't understand my trouble. He had lived in the dark almost his entire life, hiding from the face in the mirror. Meg, who had helped me through everything, would never have to live my life. She would never have to wear a mask or choose between her childhood sweetheart and the angel of her past. She would never know what I was feeling, and, honestly, I would never wish such things upon her.

I sat by the window for a moment in silence before turning to Meg. "You should probably leave soon," I said, trying not to meet her eyes. "He'll be back soon, and I don't think you want him to find you here." I grabbed my mask from the floor, strapping it to my face and turning away once more.

Meg sat on the floor at my side, leaning her head against my leg. She sighed, and tears fell from my eyes as she said, "I'm not leaving until I know you're safe."

We sat like that, both of us crying, until we heard footsteps in the hall. Meg grabbed onto my skirts, her eyes filled with terror and her breath caught in her throat. I, however, gently laid a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. I refused to fear Erik, but secretly wondered what he would say about Meg's presence. I wondered, too, about his conversation with Madame Giry.

Erik walked into the room running his hand over his wig. He looked like he was about to say something until his eyes fell upon Meg, who was still cowering at my feet. He blinked in shock, then looked to me for an explanation. To my surprise, he didn't seem angry. Actually, he seemed rather calm.

"She found me down here," I explained, standing. I grabbed Meg's arm gently and pulled her into a standing position. All the while, her eyes never left Erik's face.

"Miss Giry," Erik said, dipping his head in her direction, "your mother is searching for you. I believe the two of you are to visit Viscount De Chagny."

Meg nodded, finally turning to me. I smiled and hugged her. "I'll miss you," I whispered into her shoulder.

"When will I see you again?" she asked. She seemed quite worried and kept glancing toward Erik. "Will you be alright here?"

"I'll be fine," I promised. "I'll come to visit you sometime soon."

"I won't tell my mother," she said. I pulled away from her as she added, "If she knew you were here and that you had been … hurt … she would tell Raoul."

"Thank you," I sighed, hugging her one more time before she rushed past Erik and out of the door. I watched her run up the stairs, and I suddenly felt lonely. My small glimpse at the outside world had left, and, despite my promise to visit her, I knew that I wouldn't be seeing her any time soon.

"Christine?" Erik said as he walked toward me. I looked up into his eyes. He seemed worried. My heart fell as I began to wonder about his visit with Madame Giry.

"What did she have to say, Erik?"

Sensing the panic in my words, he rested his hands on my shoulders and stared deep into my eyes. I silently prepared myself for the worst. Had he told her? Was she going to send Raoul after me?

"I told her that I had not kidnapped you," he explained, leading me to sit at the window. "Technically, that part is truth. Then, she asked whether or not I knew where you had gone, and I told her I did not. I know you would have preferred me not to lie to her, but it's for your own safety."

"I understand," I said, focused on my hands in my lap. "Erik, I can't be brave like you. I can't be the Opera Ghost."

It was silent for a moment. I feared that he would be disappointed or that he would leave me. Even after all that had happened, I was still the defenseless child who believed in the Angel of Music and was afraid to make her own decisions. I was terrified of being left and terrified of being locked up forever.

I nearly screamed in surprise when Erik's booming laugh filled the chapel. I looked up, confused, to see a genuine smile spread across his face. With a loving look, he pulled the mask from my face. With his other hand, he pulled away his own mask, exposing his scars and a slight dimple in his cheek that I had never seen before. In truth, I had never seen him really laugh before. I smiled, enjoying the moment.

"Honeslty, Christine, I thought you could last for more than an hour!" Erik cried between laughs.

"What?" I giggled, confused but still amused.

As he calmed down, Erik brought me into his arms, holding me beside him and breathing into my hair. I closed my eyes, resting back against him.

"I knew you would change your mind," he whispered. I could hear the smile behind his words. "You may share my face, but you have never been cruel."

"You aren't cruel," I sighed, feeling his chest pressed against me. "You let me go, remember?"

Erik chuckled, kissing the top of my head. "And you came back."

"What does that make me?" I laughed, looking up at him. I knew I would never get tired of seeing his face, scars included, pulled into that charming smile. He kissed my forehead, slowly working his way down to my lips.

Erik turned me to face him. His eyelashes brushed my skin, and his twisted lips met mine. Quietly, he breathed a single word against my lips: "Mine."

**I'm sorry this chapter is a little late and kind of short. I hope you guys liked it! Thanks for reading and please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera.**_

Spending my days with Erik was effortless. I would wake in the morning to his smiling face and a warm meal. At breakfast, I would try my hardest to make him laugh, a sound I grew to crave. After the sun had risen, we would make our way to the surface, Erik leading the way and showing me the secrets of the Opera Populaire. He showed me rooms I had never seen, views I had never imagined, and so many trap-doors that my head was spinning with all the new passageways I was trying to memorize. Whenever I thought that there could not possibly be another, Erik would pull me toward yet another hall or stairwell. I watched as his eyes darted everywhere, taking in the beauty of his hidden world. I smiled all the while, truly fascinated, and wondered how many people had seen these things. Was he the first? Even more curious, was I the second?

On one of these days, we stopped far in the attic of the opera house. Erik had packed us a lunch, and we sat and talked and ate in the comfort of the rafters. When we were finished, we lay down on our backs and watched the sunlight stream through the cracks in the roof. I sighed, wishing that I could be in it again, walking through the grass and feeling the wind. Erik must have heard me, because he brought himself up on one elbow and stared down at me. His brows were furrowed, and I could clearly see the worry etched onto his exposed face.

"I know this isn't your ideal picnic," he said, giving me a crooked smile, "but this is the best I can do for now."

I laughed and brushed a few fingers through his hair. "I know," I sighed. "But will we ever be able to have anything different? Will we ever be able to go out there?"

Erik rested himself on his back and laced his fingers with mine. "I don't know. But I _will _try. I refuse to trap you in the dark forever. You don't deserve that."

"I don't mind!" I cried, a little too loudly. Catching this, we both laughed. I closed my eyes, trying to capture the moment. "I mean, I'm happy here. I'm happier here than anywhere else."

That was pure truth. The only place I could imagine that I would enjoy more would be in the house of my childhood with my father. Still, I knew that it would not be the same without him there, alive and well. Now, it was nothing more than a memory, the house nothing more than an empty shell that I refused to revisit.

"You might be content here for now," Erik said, "but that won't last forever."

Now, I turned to him, gazing down as his eyes wandered over the ceiling. "Why would you think that?" I asked, slightly hurt.

Erik met my gaze, his eyes full of feeling. He smiled, barely, and sat upright. It looked like it pained him, for he rubbed his back and winced. Turning to me, he took both of my hands. "You were happy with Raoul. I know that has changed, and I know you would not be happy with him now after what he has done. Still, you were happy with him at one time, and I fear you will miss that." Before I could interrupt, he added, "Christine, I can't take you out on Sundays. I can't take you to parties or walk with you through the park in the spring. I will _never_ be able to give you that."

"I don't want that anymore!" I cried. "Erik, I want to be _here_ with _you. _Besides, I could never have that life even if you could give it to me. I couldn't even walk down the street without being stared at." I reached up and caressed the scarred side of his face. "We're trapped here together."

With a sigh, Erik pulled a white sheet of paper from his coat. Its seal had not yet been broken. He handed it to me, and I gave him a confused look. "It's for me," he sighed, "from the Vicomte."

I gasped, looking over the paper. The seal was Raoul's, and I recognized the handwriting in which "The Opera Ghost" was written. "Why haven't you read it?" I asked.

"I only received it today," Erik explained, "and I wanted you to read it first. I am sure he does not write on my behalf."

Reluctantly, I broke the seal and scanned over the letter. It wasn't long, as if written hurriedly and frantically. It read:

_To the Opera Ghost,_

_ I write to insist on the return of Miss Christine Daae Although you refuse to admit that you have kidnapped her, I am not fooled. Return Christine to me by tonight or I will be forced to recover her myself._

_Vicomte De Chagny_

I found another, smaller piece of paper neatly tucked with the letter. On it, in the same handwriting, was written:

_Christine, _

_ If, by some chance, you find this message before he does, I would like to let you know that I will find you. Soon, we will be done with this madman forever. Be strong, and do not worry. I am coming._

_Raoul_

"He's coming!" I gasped. I handed the letters to Erik, and, after he had read them, I asked, "What are we going to do? He'll bring reinforcements, and they already know the way to the canal!"

Erik stood, grabbed the few things that we had brought, and pulled me to my feet. We began making our way back, him talking all the while. "I have to set traps. When I've finished, it will take them days to reach the lake. We'll be long gone by then."

"Long gone?" I asked. "We can't just leave!"

"Of course we can!" Erik laughed. We were almost to the main floor now, and he pulled me close to him as we dropped through a trap door that I had never seen before. When we had safely landed, he said, "I know a few places we could go, maybe even over-seas."

"If we leave, he'll have even more reason to think I was kidnapped!" My words made Erik stop walking, and he turned to face me, his face twisted in confusion.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked quietly, but I could tell that he already knew the answer.

"I have to face him," I said, unsure of when or how the idea had come to me. "I have to see him and tell him that I don't love him anymore. That's the only way he'll leave us alone."

"It's too dangerous," Erik protested.

"I've survived enough danger to last a lifetime!" I choked. I knew it was cruel, but then I sang, "_Twisted every way, what answer can I give? I must risk my life to win the chance to live."_

"Christine," Erik groaned, but I ignored him.

Almost angry, I sang louder, "_Do I have any choice? He'll kill without a thought. He'll murder all that's good! It pains me to refuse, and yet, I know I should. Oh God, if I agree, what horrors wait for me beyond the Phantom's Opera?"_

Erik turned his face to the floor. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, and I could tell that he didn't agree with the idea. I wasn't sure if I did either. I knew that telling Raoul the truth would break my heart, but I also couldn't risk Erik's safety. He had done so much for my love, and I had not paid him back. He had broken his _own _heart a million times, trying and trying again to gain my acceptance. Raoul had simply walked into my life, and I had thrown myself into his arms.

_How was I ever so foolish?_ I thought. I moved toward Erik, taking his hands in mine and pleading, "I have to end the engagement _officially_. It's the only way to save ourselves. He'll kill you, and that would kill me."

Tears filled both of our eyes. Erik was worried; it was written on his every feature. His eyes looked over my face, lingering on the left side and the damage there. I wondered what he would have done if I had died in the fire. Would he have come to the funeral? Or would he have been soon to follow me?

Erik leaned in and kissed my left cheek. I felt his tears slide over my skin, and I sighed, closing my eyes. As he pulled away, he said, "Alright. You will meet him here when he comes, and I will be there."

As we descended toward the lake, I heard Erik sing under his breath, "_Seal my fate tonight."_

**Sorry this was so late! I hope you guys are still enjoying the story, and thanks for reading! Review please!**


	11. Chapter 11

**I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera.**_

__The entire opera house was silent. No light penetrated the walls, and the air was deathly cold. The most beautiful, terrifying music pounded in my head, and a vigorous dance overtook my heart. My poor hands grasped the side of the boat, and my eyes never left the man before me. I memorized his every detail, tracing and retracing every line of his face. I dared not think of the approaching events, and tried to focus on _anything _else.

Noticing my curious actions, Erik stopped rowing the boat and asked, "What are you thinking, Christine?"

"I don't want to lose you," I whispered, looking at the floor. I felt so childish, so afraid, but I continued to talk. "I'm always afraid I'll lose you. Every chance we had, every time we could have stayed together…" I couldn't continue. My throat closed up and I fought back the urge to scream. Why did this all have to be so hard?

"I won't let him take you," Erik said. He came closer to me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. I saw the fury in his eyes, the pain that he had endured the past few months, the past few years. _For me, _I thought. _And where has it taken us?_

My own pain erupted, and I nearly yelled, "You let me go!" My words echoed through the passages, finding their way back to me and ringing in my ears.

Erik merely stared, unsure of what to say. Finally, he turned from me and choked, "What do you mean?"

"I didn't want to go with him!" I screamed. I stood, and the boat rocked. "He took me once! How can you say you won't let him take me again?" I cringed, knowing that I had been too harsh. Still, I needed to hear his reply.

Erik turned toward me and ripped the mask from his face. "You didn't deserve me!" he cried. "You didn't deserve to be damned to a life with me! You will _never _deserve that!"

I pulled away my own mask, revealing my scars and my tears. "You took my back!" I wept. I knew I was repeating myself, that I had thought these things since I returned after the fire. Suddenly, they were escaping my mind and throwing themselves at Erik like daggers. I pressed on, "You took me back when I came!"

"I wouldn't let go of you again!" Erik yelled. We were so close, and I could see how heavily he was breathing. His muscles were tight.

"You're holding back," I whispered. I turned my eyes upwards, glaring at him though my lashes. I couldn't remember ever being so angry.

"What else can I say?" Erik roared. "Every time I looked at you, I saw the wandering child coming to the Opera Populaire after her father's death. I saw the bruised, beaten freak running from the law with fresh blood on his hands. I can still see that light in your eyes, burning on that candle! I can still see the fear in your eyes! I can hear it in your voice that you think you're alone, that you think I won't be there! You are everything that I am, after I tried so hard to free you from me, to keep you safe! You are a mirror, Christine!"

I stared at him in shock, watching his breathing slow and his face fall. I fell onto the seat behind me, and Erik hit the ground soon afterwards. He gripped the sides of the boat, crying and shaking. His eyes were filled with more emotion than I thought possible to contain in a single human being. I brought my hands to cover my mouth, letting myself cry as he shrank from me.

"I've never seen you so angry," Erik whispered. He didn't look at me, only stared at the floor and gasped for air. "The way you looked at me…" The rest of his words were lost in his ragged breathing.

I cried even harder, but moved myself to sit on the floor in front of him. I placed one hand on his neck, and Erik jerked his head in my direction. He seemed almost fearful.

"Are you afraid?" I asked simply.

"Very."

"Of what?"

Erik sighed, and I knew that he had never accepted this feeling before. The Opera Ghost did not know fear. "I am afraid of being alone," he choked. He hung his head in shame, and I wrapped my arms around him.

"I would tell you that you never will be," I sighed, "but I doubt you would believe me."

Erik brought his eyes to mine. He stood, pulling me to my feet and retreating to the far side of the boat. With a small smile, he replaced his mask and muttered, "Tonight, history will not be repeating itself."

**I know you guys were hoping for Raoul to come back, but you'll have to wait! Christine and Erik have almost switched roles for part of this chapter, and I think I made my point. I apologize that I didn't use any songs from the movie in this chapter, but it's coming! I might use some from **_**Love Never Dies, **_**also.** **Thanks for reading and please give me some feedback!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera **_**or **_**Love Never Dies.**_

Raoul stood in the ballroom at the base of the stairs. He glanced nervously toward the rafters, then at the floor. I knew he was, like me, reliving his encounter with the Red Death. I stared down at my childhood friend, trying to find what had drawn me to him, trying to remember why I would ever have chosen him. I saw nothing but a frightened child.

"It's not too late to leave," Erik whispered behind me. We were hidden behind a curtain at the top of the stairs, waiting for Raoul to make the first move. I turned to face Erik.

"I can't leave him like this," I barely breathed, "thinking that I still love him, that I could possibly return to him."

Erik only nodded, lowering his eyes. It was obvious that he was worrying, but I was not sure why. Surely nothing could go wrong. Raoul would soon be forgotten.

"It will be over soon," I whispered, taking Erik's face in my hands. I kissed him once before adding, "I will forever be yours."

This caught his attention, and he brought his gaze back to me, a look of determination in his eyes. _Finally,_ I thought, _I have awakened the Opera Ghost._

We both turned back to the stairs in time to hear Raoul, suddenly overcome with confidence, yell, "_Why so silent, Opera Ghost?"_

Taking a deep breath, I advanced to the top of the stairs. Raoul did not notice me, his eyes still darting around the empty room, searching for movement. His hand reached for his hip, and I saw the silver flash of moonlight dancing on metal.

The mask was suddenly heavy on my face. I heard the music in my head as I started down the steps, singing as I went, "_I thought that I had left you for good."_

Raoul turned my way, and I saw the shock in his eyes as he met mine. I wondered what he must be thinking, seeing the Opera Ghost and hearing my voice. Did he even know which of us was before him?

"Christine?" he gasped. His hand danced for a moment on the gun in his coat, then hung limp at his side.

"Leave," I commanded, trying to rid my voice of emotion when, truly, I was trembling with fear and rage. I wanted nothing to do with him. I wanted to forget him.

"What?" Raoul laughed. "I'm here to save you! Come with me, before he finds you here!" He came up the stairs, reaching for me, but I walked around him and continued down the stairs.

"Leave!" I yelled. My hands were balled into fists at my sides, and I refused to look back at him. I didn't stop until I had reached the ground floor, and I heard Raoul rushing to keep up with me.

"What has he done to you?" Raoul demanded. He turned me to look at him, then, gesturing to my mask, added, "Does he force you to wear this?"

"He doesn't _force _me to do anything!" I yelled, shoving his hands away. I ignored the hurt look in his eyes and stood tall. "I love him."

"You can't," Raoul gasped. "You love _me! _You are _my _fiancé!"

"_How dare you try and claim me now?"_ I sang harshly. _"How dare you come invade my life?"_

"He kidnapped you!" Raoul cried. He became louder the more he spoke, and his face grew deeper shades of red.

Suddenly, Erik's voice echoed through the room at a much higher volume than Raoul even had a chance of reaching. _"My Christine! She came and found where I hid! She won't deny that she did! That long ago night…"_

Raoul's face fell, and I watched was he was consumed by fear. "He's here," he whispered. Urgently, he begged, "Christine, please. We can forget him. We can leave right now."

"I left _you_," I growled.

Raoul looked confused. Was it not obvious? With a sigh, I sang, _"Once there was a night beneath a moonless sky, too dark to see a thing, to dark to even try. I stood while you slept and knew that I must go. You had seen my pain, but trapped me even so."_

"Christine, listen to yourself!" Raoul cried, panicking. "Don't lie for him!"

Without warning, Erik's hand was on my shoulder, and Raoul backed away in fear. I felt safe again, and I was filled with fresh courage as Erik sang venomously, _"And she loved me."_

Raoul was about to turn to run, but I advanced on him, singing as loudly as I could, _"And I left you! And I had to, both of us know why. And I won't regret, from now until I die, leaving you that night, beneath a moonless sky."_

Raoul stood in shock, staring at me with wide eyes. I could see how much pain he was in, the apologies he was forming in his mind, but I ignored them. I remembered how terrified I had been when Erik had first become angry with me, when I had seen his face for the first time. I relived my own fear, and tears fell from my eyes.

Silently, Erik grabbed my arm and gently led me down once more.

**I'm so sorry this has taken so long! My computer has been down. I hope you guys are still with me and still reading, because the story is winding down. At the beginning of the chapter, Christine sings a line from "Why So Silent?", but the rest of the rest of the singing is from "Beneath A Moonless Sky", which is from the musical **_**Love Never Dies. **_**I encourage you to listen to the song on YouTube so you can get a better feel for it, even though I changed the lyrics. Thanks for reading, and please, please, please review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera.**_

Neither of us said a word on the trip back to the lake. I let Erik lead me forward as I stared stone-faced at his back. When we reached our destination, he gently pushed me into the nearest chair and busied himself gathering his sheet music.

After a few minutes, I ventured to ask, "What are you doing?"

Erik stopped moving, obviously surprised that I had found the energy to speak. Without turning to me, he answered, "Packing our things. The police could be here soon."

"Will they come?"

"I don't know," Erik said, finally turning to me, "but I want to be prepared if we do." He paused for a moment before continuing, "I know you didn't want to confront him, and I know it was hard –"

"It wasn't," I interrupted. Erik cocked his head to one side in confusion before coming to kneel before me. I put my hand on his shoulder and let the words escape me in a rush. "It wasn't hard at all. I didn't feel anything for him." I took one shaky breath. "He didn't even put up a fight."

Erik hung his head. I placed my hand on his chin and pulled his head to face me. I smiled and continued, "When I left you my world fell to pieces. You thought I would be free without you, but I was trapped. I was alone."

I brushed the tear that had rolled down Erik's face. He smiled and took my hands in his. "Never again," he promised. With one hand he reached into his coat and pulled out a black box. As he opened it, I looked up at him in shock. I could see the hope in his eyes, and also the fear.

All I could do was nod.

The smile on his face was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. He pulled me from my seat and lifted me into the air, and, in the moments that followed, I lost myself in the sound of his laugh.

**I'm so sorry this took so long and it was so short! I've had a lot going on, but I figured you guys needed a little something to keep you going! Thanks for reading, and the next (maybe last) chapter will be up soon. Please review and tell me if I should keep going or if I should wrap it up with the last chapter.**


	14. The End

**I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera. **_**ALSO, this chapter is in third person.**

The lights in the ballroom are almost blinding. Music streams from direction, words pour from every mouth. After years of work, the opera house has been restored to its previous splendor. The grand re-opening has attracted only the bravest, men and women alike, hoping for a glimpse of the Opera Ghost.

In the crowd, a pair of children weaves between dancing bodies and beneath lifted glasses. One, a young boy, is pulling his twin sister along by her hand, and both are singing quietly from behind plaster masks.

"_Masquerade," _they sing, voices blending into one, _"paper faces on parade. Masquerade. Hide your face so the world won't recognize you."_

With a final devious glance, the boy pulls his sister deeper into the mass of people, disappearing behind the waves of swirling dresses and shuffling feet.

The lights are suddenly dimmed, and the entire crowd turns to face the stairs, sure of what is to happen. A few guests even look to the center of the floor, searching for the young star that had once stood there. With longing expressions, they turn away, remembering the story of the burning opera and the star who went down with it.

At the top of the stairs, the most beautiful figure of a woman stares down at the crowd. Everyone is quiet, gazing at the masked _belle_ as she begins to drift down the stairs. She opens her mouth, and the familiar voice that escapes it is enough to bring several members of the audience to tears.

_"Why so silent, good monsieurs?"_ she sings. _"Did you think that I had left you for good? Have you missed me, good monsieurs? Have you missed your lovely opera? Or the man who burnt it down?"_

From the opposite end of the ballroom, a booming voice sings, as beautifully as the woman's, "_Don Juan Triumphant!"_

The voice belongs to a ghost, who is now floating across the floor, closer and closer to the woman. They meet at the bottom of the stairs, walking circles around each other. The man, with one hand on the sword at his side, eyes the woman as though she were his prey, drinking in the sight of her. Their masks and movements mirror one another's.

The woman suddenly pulls the man close to her, holding his face in her hands. Her partner caresses her face in the same way, but more roughly. Together, voices melting together like liquid gold, they sing, "_Past the point of no return, the final threshold. Our battle's won, your star, at last, has turned."_

With a final warning, the pair disappears in a tower of smoke, their voices echoing throughout the room:

_"You've passed the point of no return."_

**I apologize a thousand times over for this taking so long, but I had to be sure I was ready to end the story. Thanks to everyone who has followed this story and given me feedback. I appreciate every one of you! I think this went pretty well for my first fanfiction! I hope you guys will read what I write in the future. Who knows? We might hear what happened between the proposal and this last scene. I love you all, and thanks for everything! - Alyssa**


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